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Young Laddie 


’Two Christmas Stories 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


CliaprP-^7 Copyright No. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





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“She opened the dkaaver and started raok in 

— {p. IS) FronHspieee. 


AMAZEMENT.” 




OLD LADY AND YOUNG 
LADDIE 


TWO CHRISTMAS STORIES 


BY ^ 

KATE WHITING PATCH 


Ellustrations bg 

RERTUA G. DAVIDSON 



BOSTON 

JAMES H. WEST COMPANY 


1 


79102 . 

Library of Concj re^ia; 

Iwo Copies Received 

NOV 22 1900 

SECOND COPY 

Dei'vored to 

ORDER DIVISION 

MOV aa 1900 






Copyright, 1900 

By JAMES H. WEST COMPANY 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 


One Old Lady’s Christmas 9 

One Young Laddie’s Christmas 23 

•f' 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

She opened the drawer and started back in 

amazement” . . . (p. 18) Frontispiece 

**How DO YOU DO, Mr. Santa Claus?” . . 25 





One Old Lady’s Christmas 


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One Old Lady’s Christmas 

M adam ANGELL was very old and 
Madam Angel 1 was very poor. It had 
not always been so. Once Madam Angell was 
young and fmr, with all the joys and comforts 
of life around her; but one by one the joys and 
comforts had crept into the dark shadows of the 
past, and now all that was left to her was a 
shabby room in a corner of the old house that 
had once been all her own. 

But in spite of all that time had taken from 
her there was one gift which it had given 
Madam Angell — a gift so beautiful that it is a 
pity time does not give it to us all — the gift 
of a contented and happy spirit. 


lo One Old Lady’s Christmas 

As her losses had come to her she had had 
her moan like every tender, loving woman, and 
then she had wiped away the tears and said in 
her gentle, pious way that she was unworthy 
of the treasures the Lord had given her, and 
He could take care of them better than she; 
and then she fell to counting the treasures she 
had left. So, when at last the final blow came, 
and the house above her head was sold because 
she could not pay a bill or two, to be sure she 
spent the whole night wandering from room to 
room thinking of some of the joys that had 
gone ; but when, next morning, the sun crept 
in at the windows the smile crept into Madam 
Angelks eyes again; and she cheerfully moved 
all that were left of the precious things into 
the corner room, and said it was quite the best 
thing that Mr. Crowdem should make the old 
place into a tenement-house. The neighborhood 
had run down since she first came there, and 
the east room was quite big enough for her 
and her things, now that she was all alone. It 
would be more sociable, too, to have the house 
full of people. 


One Old Lady’s Christmas 1 1 

And so she settled down in her one room, 
with her rag carpet, her patch-work quilt, her 
low rocker and a few odd bits of furniture and 
china, her bible and her knitting-needles — and 
grew poorer and more content and cheerful 
every year. 

But in spite of this spirit of peace that 
brooded over her there were some things that 
troubled Madam Angell. 

Something troubled her to-day as she sat by 
her window and gazed out into the street. 

It was December — and such a cold day! 
Madam Angell drew her faded shawl more 
closely about her. She had plenty of coal and 
wood, she said ; oh, yes ; but it was not 
necessary to keep a big fire, and she was 
very comfortable with her shawl and a small 
afghan about her feet, thank you. So it was 
not the cold that was troubling Madam Angell. 
No; it was the thought of Christmas. 

The windows of the little thread and needle 
store across the way were filled with all the 
gay odds and ends which proclaim the coming 
of Santa Claus, — and, against the windows. 


1 2 One Old Lady’s Christmas 

how many cold little noses were longingly 
pressed ! how many blue fingers pointed out 
the dearest treasures ! 

Madam AngelFs heart ached for them. 

“ Poor dears ! they won’t have much Christ- 
mas,” she said pityingly. It makes me sad 
when I think of the Christmases my children 
used to have, and how they hung their stockings 
in the room the Mulligans occupy now. If — if 
I only had a little more than I have — just a 
little — how I would like to make a Christmas 
for those little ones ! ” 

Madam Angell looked sadly over at the shop 
window and shook her head. “Ah, no,” she 
sighed, “ I have not been grateful enough for 
the Lord’s goodness to me, and He has taken 
away from me even the power of being useful 
to others. There is nothing I can do.” 

She took up her bible and read the story 
of the widow’s mite. 

“ But I haven’t even a mite,” she said. 

Then suddenly the smiles came back to her 
face with the beauty of winter sunshine, and she 
stretched out her hand for her piece-bag. True, 


One Old Lady's Christmas i 3 

she had not riches, she had not even a mite 
of money ; but she did have her knitting- 
needles. 

Madam Angell looked again across the street, 
but there was not a shadow on her face now. 
She could not give the little shiverers the 
treasures in the shop windows, but she could 
cover the blue pinched fingers by the power of 
her needles. 

** I have all that red yarn that Miss Dawson 
gave me for a petticoat,” she said, hobbling over 
to a drawer in her old bureau. I don’t really 
need the petticoat. I’m sure, and I know Miss 
Dawson won’t mind when I tell her. The poor 
dears need the mittens so much, and children 
always like red.” 

So Madam Angell put a scant half-shovelful 
of coal on her mean little fire, and wrapped her 
afghan closer about her knees and began to 
wind the yam. 

Thus her Christmas work began. Day by 
day she sat smiling at her window, and the 
knitting-needles flew and the ball of red yarn 
grew smaller and smaller. 


14 One Old Lady’s Christmas 

One morning Miss Dawson came in. 

“ So you are knitting your skirt ? ” she asked, 
noting the flying needles and the yam. 

Madam Angell paused, looking over her 
spectacles deprecatingly. 

“No, my dear, Fm not,” she admitted; “and 
then, with many apologies, she made her con- 
fession. 

“ Now, you don’t mind, dear ? ” she asked at 
last. 

Miss Dawson wiped her eyes. 

“You needed the skirt,” she said, “but of 
course I don’t mind.” 

So Madam Angell resumed her work cheer- 
fully. Nearly every night she added to the 
little pile of mittens in the bureau drawer, and 
thanked the Lord for giving her this happi- 
ness. 

Christmas morning came, and the last bit 
of yarn had been used. 

Madame Angell awoke with the chiming of 
the church bells ringing in her ears. She arose 
and built her little fire and tidied up her room 
and ate her very simple breakfast. Then she 


One Old Lady’s Christmas 15 

eagerly laid out on the window-sill the pairs of 
crimson mittens, and made ready to celebrate 
the day. 

What a good time she was going to have ! 
How her dear old face beamed as she wrapped 
the afghan about her and sat down by the 
window. The people were passing by on their 
way to church. She watched the happy faces 
and wished she were strong enough to go too. 
Instead, she took her bible and read the story 
of the first Christmas again. 

By and by the streets were almost empty. 
That was what Madam Angell was waiting 
for. 

Pretty soon a little girl with an old shawl 
over her head came along and paused to look 
into the shop window. Then she turned wearily 
and crossed the street, as if in answer to the 
wish in Madam Angell’s heart. 

The old lady slyly opened the window a bit, 
and dropped a pair of mittens right at her 
feet. 

The child started; picked them up eagerly; 
and then looked anxiously, half fearfully, around. 


1 6 One Old Lady’s Christmas 

Her eyes at last met Madam Angell’s smiling 
kindly at her from above. 

‘‘ They are for you. Merry Christmas, dear ! ” 
called the sweet voice. 

The child looked up in bewilderment ; pulled 
the mittens on hastily, and then hurried away, 
half laughing, half crying. 

‘‘ Poor dear ! ” said Madam Angell, smiling 
pityingly. “ She thinks it is all a dream. 
Perhaps she never had a Christmas gift before.” 
She would have liked to follow the poor child 
and comfort her. 

Soon two small boys came trudging up the 
street, their hands crammed far into their 
pockets, their little noses purple with cold. 

Madam Angell again raised her window, 
and this time dropped from it two pairs of 
mittens. 

The boys came along and saw the crimson 
bunches lying on the pavement; they stopped 
in wonder ; each gave a low whistle, and then 
they picked them up and put them op. Sud- 
denly there were two cries of delight, and the 
mittens were quickly pulled off again. Tucked 


One Old Lady’s Christmas 17 

away in the thumb of each the boys had found 
half a peppermint-drop ! 

They looked about in wonder and surprise, 
and at last saw Madam Angell nodding and 
smiling at them from her window. 

“ Merry Christmas, boys ! ” she called gaily. 

And Oh, thank you, mum ! thank you ! 
Merry Christmas ! ” shouted the laddies joy- 
fully. 

The shout attracted another boy, who ran 
across the street to see “what was up.” 

“ Oh, Jim, ain’t this a bully Christmas ! ” 
cried one, holding up his crimson-covered 
hands; and before Jim could reply a small 
crimson bundle fell at his feet, too. 

“ Put ’em on, quick ! ” cried the others, as he 
looked about in astonishment ; “ see what’s in 
the thumbs,” and they munched the fragments 
of peppermint. 

Jim obeyed, and another delighted cheer 
broke the Christmas stillness, and another 
beaming face was upturned to Madam Angell. 

The dear old lady nodded and smiled again, 
and clapped her hands at the merry snowball 


1 8 One Old Lady’s Christmas 

battle that ensued, and said to herself that 
Christmas was a very happy day. 

That afternoon, while Madam Angell was 
dozing in her rocker, she was aroused from 
her nap by hearing the door of her room softly 
closed ; yet when she looked about there was 
no one there. Then a gentle tap on the 
window-pane startled her. She sat up straight 
in her chair in great surprise, for there on the 
sill outside were two apples and a cracker ! 

How did they get there ? 

Madam Angell looked curiously out into the 
street, and from behind three trees she caught 
a gleam of crimson. Then a sudden mist 
dimmed her spectacles, and she opened the 
window and took in the humble offerings and 
smiled a heartfelt thank you ” at the three 
trees. 

The dusk fell and Madam Angell arose to 
put a handful of fuel on the dying fire. On 
her way back to the window she stopped at the 
bureau to see if by any chance she had over- 
looked a pair of mittens. She opened the 
drawer and started back in amazement. Where 


19 


One Old Lady’s Christmas 

the yarn had lain a few weeks before, now lay 
a beautiful, warm crimson petticoat, all knit 
this time so that Madam Angell could not 
again convert it into mittens. 

The old woman lifted it in her trembling 
hands and tottered to her chair. 

A miracle ! ” she murmured, spreading it 
over her knees ; a miracle ! ” and she covered 
her face with her hands and burst into happy 
tears. 

By and by she leaned back in her chair 
smiling calmly, joyfully. 

Oh, what a happy Christmas ! ” she said, 
gazing from the crimson skirt lying across her 
knees to the two apples and the cracker on 
the window-sill. 

Then her eyes wandered out into the street, 
and she was not made the less happy by the 
sight of a little figure in an old shawl and 
crimson mittens gazing wistfully up at her. 

Madam Angel smiled reassuringly, and the 
small face outside was glorified for a moment 
with all the beauty that gratitude and love 
could give. Then it, also, vanished in the 


20 One Old Lady’s Christmas 

gathering darkness, and Madam Angell clasped 
her gentle hands in prayer. 

Oh, how good God is to me,” she murmured, 
** Oh, how good ! Such a happy Christmas-day 
this has been ! such a happy day ! How can 
Providence do so much for an unworthy old 
woman ! I thank thee, thank thee. Lord ! ” 


One Young Laddie’s 
Christmas 







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One Young Laddie’s 
Christmas 
¥• 

IT was the day before Christmas, and the hurry- 
A ing, busy crowd of happy people filled the 
Boston streets and shops. A very small atom in 
that crowd was Sandy Martin, but he carried a 
large share of the Christmas happiness, although 
his hands were mittenless and his pockets full of 
holes. How could one help being light-hearted 
and glad in the midst of all that joyous bustle 
and flurry ? It made Sandy feel as if he were 
going to have a glorious big Christmas himself, 
and he quite forgot to sigh because he was not. 
He stood by the big toy-shop window, flattening 


24 One Young Laddie’s Christmas 

his little purple nose against the glass, and watch- 
ing the people go in and out. He wondered 
what they were buying, and what boy or girl was 
to be made glad with the contents of those 
mysterious parcels. 

But by and by he began to grow cold, and the 
coldness set him to thinking ; and as he walked 
along, up past the Common, he began to wonder, 
just a little, why it was that Santa Claus should 
have so much to do with all these people and so 
little to do with him. The puzzled look had not 
disappeared from his small, freckled face, when 
he looked across the street and could hardly 
believe his own eyes, — for there was Santa 
Claus himself, walking through the Common ! 

Sandy stopped short, and stared and stared 
until his eyes couldn’t open any wider. Yes, 
that was surely Santa Claus. He did not have 
his reindeer and sleigh, to be sure, for there was 
no snow ; but nobody but Santa could own such 
a jolly face and long white beard and nice furry 
clothes and big boots. Then he had a good 
many toys about him, too; and he carried a 
great sign, with something in big letters on it 









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“ Hoav do YOiT DO, Mu. Santa Cdaus?” 


— p. 25 


One Young Laddie’s Christmas 25 

which told people that the rarest treasures for 
Christmas stockings were to be found at a cer- 
tain big store on Washington street. 

But Sandy could not read and he did not bother 
with the letters. He just stared and stared. 

Santa was evidently tired ; for while Sandy 
was looking at him, the old saint paused in his 
walk and sat down on one of the benches. 

“It is Santa Claus,” said Sandy to himself. 
“ I’m going over to talk with him, and I’ll ask him 
why he doesn’t come down our chimney, too.” 

No sooner said than done. Across the street 
Sandy hurried, and, marching up to the old man, 
he said, in a friendly way, — 

“ How do you do, Mr. Santa Claus .? ” 

Santa looked up, a little surprised, but smiled 
good-naturedly at the ragged urchin before him, 
and remarked affably, — 

“ Well, young man, how do you do } And 
what may be your name } ” 

“ I’m Sandy Martin,” was the prompt answer. 
And with that, Sandy Martin, waiting for no 
further invitation, proceeded to pull himself up 
on the seat beside Mr. Santa Claus. “ I’ve come 
over here to ask you a question,” he began at 


26 One Young Laddie's Christmas 

once. I want to know why you don’t come to 
our house Chris’mus ; weVe got jus’ as good a 
chimney as any one, and there’s an ole lightning 
rod beside it fer you to tie your reindeer to.” 

Santa seemed immensely pleased, and chuckled 
to himself. 

“ You see,” said he to Sandy, “ I have so many 
places to go to, it is very hard to find ’em all. 
Where do you live, any way } ” 

‘^Up in Gower Street, No. 65. I thought you 
might have forgotten.” 

At this point Sandy became conscious that a 
third person was listening to the conversation. 
A tall, dark lady in deep mourning had come up 
to where the two were sitting, and stood near, 
waiting for a street-car. Her face was very pale 
and sad, and it quite surprised Sandy to think 
that any one could look so at Christmas-time, and 
before the very eyes of Santa Claus, too. As 
he stared up at her, the sadness was chased away 
for an instant by an amused smile. Sandy, who 
stood in awe of no one, smiled back at her, and 
said cheerfully, — 

“Merry Christmas, ma’am.” 

The lady smiled, but sighed too. 


One Young Laddie’s Christmas 27 

“Thank you, my dear,” she said, in a sweet, 
sad voice. “ I hope that you may have a merry 
Christmas, but the day cannot be a merry one 
for me.” 

Sandy was surprised again, and gazed in 
bewilderment from Santa to the lady. 

“ Why .? Don’t grown-up people have merry 
Christmases ” he asked. 

“Sometimes,” answered the lady sadly. 

“I thought,” continued Sandy, “that it was 
even more fun for the grown-up people than for 
the children ; ’cause I thought you all knew 
Santa Claus and had secrets with him. All the 
other people I’ve seen looked jolly and glad, an’ 
I thought every one was happy ’cause they was 
all thinkin’ how they’d surprise some other one.” 

A shadow fell ’ across Sandy’s little face, and 
the lady saw it. 

“ My dear little boy,” she said, with something 
like tears in her voice, although her eyes were 
smiling again, “ don’t let me spoil your thought of 
Christmas happiness. You are right, and I have 
been wrong ; every one should be happy at this 
blessed season, and I am going to have a secret 
with Santa Claus, and a merry Christmas, too.” 


28 One Young Laddie’s Christmas 

Sandy looked happy again, and began to slide 
off the seat. 

I’ve got to go home now, for it’s getting 
dark,” he said ; ‘^but I’m ever so glad I met you, 
Mr. Santa Claus, and I hope you’ll find your way 
to-night all right. If you can, I wish you’d bring 
Maggie a doll with blue eyes, and Benny a sled, 
and mother a new shawl ; and, Mr. Santa Claus,” 
he added in a loud whisper, I hope you’ll give 
that lady there something she likes and make 
her have a good time.” 

Then Sandy trudged away, and when he looked 
back he was delighted to see the sad lady and 
Santa talking earnestly together. 

While they ate their supper that night, Sandy 
excited the whole family with his story of meet- 
ing Santa Claus. His mother, tired out with her 
day’s work, sighed, and tried to persuade him 
that it was not really Santa Claus he had seen, — 
in vain ; before they went to bed, each child hung 
up a ragged stocking back of the kitchen stove. 

Mrs. Martin looked at them, and then sank 
down in her chair and had a good cry. She had 
been sewing hard all day, poor soul; but the 


One Young Laddie’s Christinas 29 

money she had earned was no more than enough 
to keep a roof over their heads and procure food 
for the hungry little mouths, — there was nothing 
to spare for Christmas stockings. 

‘<Oh, what will they say in the morning,” she 
wept, “ when they find them empty ! I can’t 
bear it ; no, I can’t.” 

She looked about the room, and finally rose 
and took her shawl down from the peg. 

It’s no use,” she said, I can’t have them 
disappointed ; I’ll go out and pawn this and get 
a few things to put in them stockings.” 

She walked across the room and opened the 
door, but she did not go out, for some one was 
standing there. 

How do you do, ma’am ” he said, walking 
into the room. ** I am Santa Claus, and as I 
couldn’t very well get down the chimney I took 
the liberty of coming in at the door. I’ve a few 
things here for the little folks, and I promised 
your boy I’d come ; I see he is ready for me.” 

With that, Santa Claus went to work, and 
Mrs. Martin dropped into her chair and uttered 
never a word ; she felt as if she were dreaming. 
Had the myths of her childhood come back 


30 One Young Laddie's Christmas 

again ? Was there really a Santa Claus, and 
had Sandy met him that afternoon ? Surely it 
could be no one else who stood there before her ; 
and had not this bluff, kindly old man with his 
own lips declared his identity ? 

Mrs. Martin sat perfectly dazed, and watched 
him as he crammed full the ragged stockings, 
twined a wreath of evergreen here and there, 
and piled up a number of packages and a big 
basket on the table. Then, before she could 
utter a word, he had disappeared with a Merry 
Christmas,” leaving her to wonder if she had 
not indeed awakened from a dream. 

Before light, next morning, great was the 
joyful excitement and noise at 65 Gower Street ; 
and this only settled into momentary awe when 
mother told the children, solemnly, that she her- 
self had seen Santa Claus fill the stockings ! 

“ But I thought you said there wasn’t a Santa 
Claus,” said Sandy, reproachfully. 

** Well, I didn’t believe there was,” answered 
his mother helplessly ; but if that wasn’t Santa 
Claus I don’t know who it was.” 

“ Course it was Santa Claus ! ” exclaimed 
Maggie; didn’t Sandy tell him to bring me a 


One Young Laddie’s Christmas 31 

doll with blue eyes ? ” (Sandy nodded solemnly.) 
<‘Well, and he did bring her, didn’t he? — the 
pretty darling! See, ma, she’s got lace-edged 
clothes clear through, and buttoned boots.” 

‘^And didn’t Sandy tell him to bring me a 
sled ? ” broke in Benny. (Sandy nodded sol- 
emnly again,) “And ain’t the sled right here ? 
and didn’t the snow come, too, last night ? and 
ain’t I going coasting on the Common this very 
day ? ” Saying which Benny flung himself upon 
the shiny sled and tried to coast across the 
kitchen floor. 

As if these arguments were not enough, 
Sandy turned to his mother again. 

“And didn’t I ask him to bring you a new 
shawl ? ” he said. 

Mrs. Martin laid her hand on the soft thick 
shawl which Maggie had spread across the 
rocking-chair, and then she patted Sandy’s 
shoulder gently. 

“What did you tell him to bring to youf 
she asked. 

Sandy looked up in sudden surprise. 

“ Why, I never told him about me I ” he 
exclaimed. “ It was getting late, and I just 


32 One Young Laddie's Christmas 

remembered about the doll and the sled and 
the shawl. I forgot all about me; but now I’m 
sure it was Santa Claus, for he brought just 
the things I wanted.” 

“So he did ! ” said Maggie wonderingly. 
“There is the tool-chest, and the harmonica, 
and the big picture-book.” 

Benny had been peeping into the market- 
basket. “ Whew ! ” he cried. “ There’s nuts 
and oranges and ’nanas and grapes ; and there’s 
red jelly — and a turkey ! ” 

“ I see crackers and bread and ’taters,” 
exclaimed Maggie from the other side of the 
basket. “ Oh, ma ! ma ! we can have a regular 
dinner, can’t we ! ” 

It is needless to tell of all the comfort and 
joy that happy Christmas brought to Sandy and 
his home. But his faith in Santa Claus is firm 
and sure, and even Mrs. Martin half believes 
that the good old saint does somewhere exist, 
and was drawn down to their humble home by 
little Sandy’s Christmas spirit. 

















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